We've All Got Secrets
by SailAway
Summary: The child of an ER doctor shows up, startling everyone, but especially the mother.
1. The Beginning

DISCLAIMER: I own ER! Yup. All of the people, they are mine. Carter gives some wicked good backrubs. Luka has to sleep in my closet, 'cause he snores. Abby braids my hair every day before I go to school. And I slap Mark around with a piece of moldy cheese.

Okay, I lied.

I own nothing.

Please don't sue me.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


To begin with, my mother never wanted children.

I know she didn't want me to know this, but it wasn't that difficult to figure it out, especially when I "accidentally" discovered all of her old diaries and read it for myself. I understand. I'm offended that I was unwanted. My mother loves me, even if she doesn't always show it.

I live in South Africa with my father. My mother lived here, too, once upon a time. She moved when I was still so young that I have no memories of her living with us.

She lives now in Chicago, a strange and metallic land. I visit her yearly, sleeping in the guest bedroom of her townhouse. When I was little, she would make me turkey sandwiches, writing my name in mustard on the white bread and then cutting the sandwich into stars or hearts. She would take me on her lap, and read to me fairy tales. I used to play games with my South African friends. I'd tell them the stories my mother had told me, and then we'd act them out together. I'd always be the princess, while my friends were destined to be the ogre or wicked witch.

South Africa isn't the Africa that people imagine it is. My father is involved in politics there, and my mother has revealed to me that these politics are often dangerous. South Africa isn't lions and tigers and bears, oh my, not at all. Bears don't even live in Africa, except maybe in the occasional zoo in a big city. No, South Africa is, as my mother tells me, just like England. To me, though, it is the most beautiful place in the world.

I live with my father in a two story house, facing the Atlantic Ocean. I swim in the water, swimming like a fish. I used to believe that if I swam far enough, I'd get to my mother and I could bring her back and we would be a whole family. We speak English and Afrikaans at home.

We have phones, a computer, and even a Ford truck. I made an internet friend in a chat room once, and when I told her I live in South Africa, she asked me if I ate humans. No, I don't. Nor do I know anyone that does. Is it so hard to believe that people in Africa are just as civilized as those of in Europe or the United States?

I go to school, where I learn math and geography and even play the clarinet in the school band. 

We're very similar to any other place in the world.

I'm leaving today for Chicago, to stay with my mother.

My father was arrested. I'm not sure exactly what for, but I know it has something to do with his politics.

In that sense, I feel that we are more like New York City; we have mobsters and politics are always played fairly. 

Our maid helps me pack. She keeps calling me welgestelde weesmeisie, which means "well-to-do orphan girl". This makes me scared, does she think that already I am an orphan? My mother is healthy and well, in Chicago. My father-can he be dead?-is just in jail. My Uncle Voog will take care of Father, and then I'll be allowed to come back and everything will be okay.

I'm not an orphan!

How can Jibi, the maid, say that I am an orphan? My mother is still alive, even if she's never really been there for me. She's still alive.

And now, I'm going to her.

Jibi won't even allow me to call.

I don't understand, but Jibi hushes me and tells me it's not safe to call.

So I leave, tears streaming down my face as I look at the house that I'm not sure I'll ever see again. Jibi hugs me, whispering to me klein kind, small child, we'll take care of things, don't worry, your father loves you.

And I'm into a long car, speeding along the thin black strip of road, off to the country that I barely know, off to a mother that I also barely know. 

I look over my shoulder, to where Jibi stands, growing smaller and smaller against the blue of the ocean and the white of our house.

It seems like I'm the one who's dying. All I've ever known is being destroyed.

  
  
  
  


* * * * * * *

The plane has landed, and I am left standing in the midst of the gigantic airport. The air-conditioning ruffles my hair, and I look in my purse. There are the directions to my mother's house and to her work, and a stash of money.

I bravely grasp the handle of my suitcase and begin walking through the airport. All around me, there are people chattering, their voices a mix of different languages. 

The sunny outdoors welcome me, almost reminding me of home. I raise my hand, and magically, a taxi arrives. I open the door and climb timidly in. I hand him the directions to my mother's house. Before I even have the door closed, we're off, onto another road, zipping along.

I stare out the window, looking at the sites. Every year, I see these same things, but still, they seems strange to me.

Few trees dot the landscape. It's mostly large buildings, rising grey from the ground. The tops of some are so high above that I have to twist my neck to be able to see the roof.

"...from?" I realize the driver is talking to me.

"Excuse me?" I ask him.

He grins in the rearview mirror, and repeats. "I asked if you lived here, or where are you from?" 

Flustered, I answered him. "South Africa. I'm from South Africa. Twussen Twee, a town on the coast."

He nodded. "I knew you had to be from somewhere exotic. You just look like it."

I pondered this. Do I look exotic? I didn't think so. My skin was paler than most African's, a result of the brief marriage between my black as night father and white like ivory mother. My eyes were blue, a color not often seen in people with dark skin. My eyes the same color as my mother.

Beautiful mother. She never wanted me.

Here I am! Will she want me now?

Always before, I'd stay for a week, and at the end, we'd both cry as I boarded the airplane, but I could tell that she was relieved that I was leaving. Now, though, I'll be staying for an undetermined time.

Gradually, the scenery became familiar. I recognized the organic grocery my mother frequents, and then the street she lived on, the houses crammed together like teeth in a mouth that badly needs braces.

My mother's house. I suppose, my house now. The lights were off, and looked quite as if no one were home. Still, I marched up to the door, and knocked timidly. After waiting for an eternity, I knew no one was home. I jogged back down the steps to the yellow taxi and climbed back in.

"Take me here." I handed him the address to the hospital.

I had never been to the place where my mother works. I'd never even seen it. Whenever I visited, she'd take the week off work. Suddenly, in front of me, there was a huge building. Cook County General Hospital.

I shakily handed the driver $50, and told him to keep the change. He grinned. "Have a nice day, Miss." He told me, and peeled out of the parking lot.

I felt completely alone. Even just having a taxi driver with me helped me to feel safer.

Now, I was alone, abandoned in a strange city. What if my mother wasn't at work? What would I do? Become a hobo? A street walker? My mother always warned me about those people, but if my mother wasn't here, what could I do?

Panic threatened to take me over. I pushed through a revolving door. A sign directed me to Emergency, where I knew my mother worked. If she was indeed at work.

A hefty man stood behind the counter. I paused, mentally urging myself to go forward. Finally, I mustered enough courage and walked up to him. "I'm looking for Doctor-"

He cut me off. "Wait in chairs."

"Wait-My mother. I need to talk to my mother," I informed him.

"Chairs." He pointed behind me.

I sulkily sat down, pulling my knees under my chin. I looped my black hair around my pinky, twisting it into ringlets. Suddenly, I heard her voice. A silly grin broke across my face, and tears welled in my eyes.

"Mummy." I whispered. I ran past the desk.

"Hey!" The desk clerk yelled at me. I sprinted by him, and there was my mother, her back towards me, speaking to another doctor, this one a balding man.

I didn't pause, I raced up to her and threw my arms around her neck. 

"Mummy!" The only word I could get out past my tears.

Slowly, she turned around, embracing me in her own arms.

"Tyd!" She breathed my name. We hugged in silence.

Instantly, she seemed to remember where she was. She broke away from me and turned back to the doctor.

"This is my daughter, Tyd." She seemed almost...ashamed. 

"Nice to meet you," The other doctor held out his hand. "I'm Doctor Greene." I shook his hand. "I never knew you had a kid, Kerry." He said to my mother.

So that was it. My mother didn't want a child so bad that she pretended she didn't have one. That was why she always took a week off work whenever I came to visit. It all made perfect sense to me now. My tears of happiness stopped abruptly, and I stood there, stiffly. What other choice did I have but to stay with her? She's all I have left now.

My mother was still talking to Doctor Greene. Making arrangements to leave early, take the week off work.

"Mummy, don't worry about me. You don't have to leave early," I told her.

She didn't reply. Her silence made me furious. She was pretending I wasn't there. I embarrassed her so much that she would rather I were invisible.

My eyes narrowed in anger. "I'll be here longer than a week, Mother." She became Mother when I was mad.

She looked startled. "Longer than a week? Why? What happened?"

"Daddy is in jail." I told her matter-of-factly. She looked amazed, dismayed, startled, scared, and last, enraged.

"How did you get here?"

"Plane."

Still holding my hand, she lead me through the hospital. Doctors and nurses all stared at her. That made me grin. If she was going to pretend to not have a daughter, then she would have to deal with the looks she got when her coworkers saw her with a kid. Serves her right.

We went into a room with a table, refrigerator, couch, and lockers. She pulled her things out of a locker marked "Weaver" and we left the hospital together.

"I'm sorry, Mummy." I startled myself as much as her when I said this.

"Nothing is your fault, Tyd." Maybe I wasn't as mad with her as I thought I was. I smiled cautiously at her, and she smiled back at me. We both climbed into her car, and we were off, back to her house.

  
  
  
  



	2. Closer

She pulled the sheet across the mattress, tugging it tight and smoothing out the wrinkles with her palms. Together we spread a navy fleece blanket out, plumping pillows in silence and folding the quilt down.

"How about some tea?" She asked me. I nodded, a silent agreement to a mother who had been mostly silent to me my whole life.

We sat together at the table. I hooked my ankles around the bars on my chair, my fingers tracing the lip of the mug. My mother looked at me for several minutes. Her staring began to make me nervous.

Finally, she spoke. "I missed you."

What do I say to that? The only thing I could. "I missed you, too."

We sat in silence, staring at each other over the curve of our cups.

"What happened with your father?" 

"I... I'm not really sure. His politics..." It's the only thing I knew to say. It clearly was enough. My mother pursed her lips, looking quite displeased.

"I knew he never should have been involved with all of that." She looked troubled, her brow furrowed. She looked up. "Tyd, I'm really sorry. I should have had you come here before. I talked to your father just weeks ago, and he told me things were getting serious. You should have come then, when your father could still see you off. You would have been much safer then."

I pondered this. I was unsafe? Whatever my father was involved in caused my travel to be unsafe? "Mummy-do you mean that there were people there that could have hurt me?" I tried to figure it out.

"Maybe, honey. Don't worry. You are safe here." She smiled, obviously trying to lighten the mood. "I haven't seen you in so long! How about a pajama party tonight?"

I sighed, smiling. My mother still believed me to be a child. "Sure Mum, I'd like that."

We drove to a video rental store nearby, and we spent half an hour trying to pick out a movie that we could watch. I saw several that looked good. My mother wouldn't let me get anything Rated R. I wanted to laugh. She should see some of the things I'd seen back home!

We settled on Meet the Parents. The drive back home was loud with laughing and bad jokes. My mother has the worst sense of humor. Her idea of a good joke is, "Why did the chicken cross the road? Answer-because he wanted to!" Still, I had to laugh. She tried so hard.

Back at her house, I went into the guest bedroom to change into my pajamas. The guest bedroom. The name of the room stuck in my head. I guess now it's my bedroom. I looked critically at the walls. If it were really to be my own bedroom, it would need some serious work. Pink walls, floral border? No way.

I returned to the den, where Mummy was just getting to. She carried a bowl of popcorn and a bag of M&Ms. We flopped down on the sofa, sitting a safe distance from each other, trying to sit like mother and daughter, sitting instead like strangers.

I ripped open the M&Ms, eating only the brown and red ones. I'd suck on them until the candy part was gone, then chew the chocolate. We watched the movie, laughing at the appropriate times, but neither of us really paying attention to it. My thoughts were mostly on my father.

Was he safe? What was really happening to him? I was scared for him, scared for me, too.

My mother seemed to read my mind. She reached over and hugged me.

"I'm glad you're here." She told me. Her eyes sought out mine. I knew she was being honest. I smiled at her.

"What's going to happen?" She looked thoughtful.

"I don't know. Whatever happens, though, I'll be here. I'll make sure you're safe. And I'll try to get in touch with your father, make sure he's safe, too," A pause, "Tyd, I love you. It might be fun, you living here, right? I know I might not be the most conventional mother, but I think we can make it work."

"I love you too."

The movie's laugh track droned in the background.

  
  


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There's more to come-just wait. I'm just having BAD writer's block. If you've got any idea's of how to go with this, please give me suggestions!


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